


Three Shovel Speeches That Actually Happened (Plus One That Only Sorta Did)

by beetle



Series: Of Firsts and Forever [2]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Brothers Are Annoying, Cunnilingus, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Femslash, Fingerfucking, Idiots in Love, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Sara and Vetra have good friends, Shameless Smut, Shovel Talk, Vaginal Fingering, friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 23:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10886916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/pseuds/beetle
Summary: A couple months after Sara and Vetra hooked-up at Scott and Reyes’s wedding, a few long-overdue shovel-speeches get made. And smut happens. A lot of it.





	Three Shovel Speeches That Actually Happened (Plus One That Only Sorta Did)

**Author's Note:**

> Notes/Warnings: Set post-game, vague spoilers.

Sara Ryder woke when a firm, but gentle mouth pressed to her forehead, then the bridge of her nose, then her lips. The final kiss was _extra_ light and tender, and she smiled into it, submitting to the luxurious lapping of her lover’s tongue at the seam of her lips.

 

Making a petulant sound as she registered the skanky taste of her own mouth, Sara mumbled. “Are you sure, baby? I have morning breath from Hell.”

 

“Really don’t care,” Vetra murmured, taking advantage of Sara’s parted lips to tease her way into Sara’s mouth. With a soft whimper that slid down into a desperate moan, Sara wrapped her arms around Vetra’s neck, and her legs around Vetra’s waist, tugging the other woman down on top of her and deeper into a kiss that shortly went from tender and teasing, to possessive and passionate.

 

Soon, Sara was being pinned to Vetra’s mattress and the disarrayed sheets, while Vetra nibbled and kissed her way down Sara’s body silently, but for the occasional appreciative hum in that sexy, resonant voice.

 

(Sara had always had a weakness for Turian voices. And Turians, in general.)

 

When mouth and mandibles closed around her left nipple and areola , all wet, hot swirls of tongue and careful nips of strong teeth, Sara gasped and arched up off the bed, despite Vetra’s firm weight on top of her and the iron-tough hands pinning her wrists. “Oh! Oh!” she exclaimed breathlessly, trying to tug Vetra even closer with her legs—get the other woman in direct contact with the tingling-throbbing center of her body . . . even if it was just the press of Vetra’s hard stomach to grind against—head thrown back, braids sprayed all over Vetra’s pillows.

 

The other woman chuckled quite evilly as she sucked hard on Sara’s nipple, refusing to be tugged any closer than she already was. The vibrations from that chuckle made Sara whimper again, eyes squinched shut on tears that nonetheless ran down the sides of her face.

 

Vetra released her nipple with a final tickling tease of tongue, then kissed it tenderly, before letting go of Sara’s right hand. She ran one taloned finger down the center of Sara’s sternum, over and past the occasional scar, to Sara’s belly button. She snorted when Sara giggled and squirmed a bit. Then she was trailing that talon lower, over the dark, soft hair between Sara’s legs. After a brief pause, Vetra’s talon brushed the edges of Sara’s labia carefully, not yet dipping further in to examine the silky, wet warmth that had drawn and demanded her attention from their first time together.

 

“You’re so soft and delicate. So _pretty._ Like a flower,” Vetra murmured in that _voice_ , which was, so early in the morning, more of a rumble. “And how is it that you’re so ready so fast? You just woke up.”

 

“Unh. Maybe I . . . maybe I was dreaming of you?” Sara panted, shivering as Vetra swooped down to cover her breasts with kisses, then turned her attention specifically to Sara’s _right_ nipple. Sara, meanwhile, placed her free hand on Vetra’s head, then cupped her cheek reverently. She somehow managed to open her eyes and angle her head so that she could stare down her body at Vetra. Bright, golden eyes met Sara’s, heated and yearning, even as Vetra increased the suction on Sara’s nipple, and her mandibles drew in to press the sides of Sara’s breast. “When I think about you and imagine all the things you do to me . . . I go from zero to FTL in point-five seconds.”

 

Vetra’s mandibles and mouth fluttered and curved up, respectively, in a smile, even as her tongue teased Sara’s nipple to aching hardness. Flopping back into the pillows with a groan, Sara closed her eyes and focused on the sensations that were close to overwhelming her. The tip of Vetra’s thumb-talon, so dangerous, yet so gentle, circled her clit slowly, lingering and tickling, even as Vetra’s index finger navigated its careful way between Sara’s sensitive lips and began the intense, unbearable, amazing push into Sara’s body.

 

“I see that,” the other woman noted rather calmly, as if she were doing nothing more exciting than taking requisition requests from Gil or Suvi. Then she blew a jet of cool air across Sara’s nipple, which was good for a choked-off gasp. “And have I mentioned how hot and tight you are around my fingers?” she asked suddenly, which only made Sara groan again as every muscle in her body clenched and bore down on the thick, long digit invading her. “And how salty-sweet you are on my tongue?”

 

Flushed from more than just arousal, Sara laughed breathlessly, running fingers that trembled along Vetra’s left mandible, giggling when Vetra nipped her finger then kissed it. Her finger inside of Sara twisted and turned, talon lightly scraping her walls, searching tirelessly for Sara’s spot.

 

Breaking out in a light sheen of sweat, Sara gasped again, a minute later, when Vetra found said spot, then applied pressure, while once more mouthing at Sara’s breast.

 

“You taste better than Salarian mocha: richer and darker. And better than Asari spun-caramel: sweeter and finer,” Vetra whispered, her voice shaking just a bit as she interspersed words with tiny kitten-licks of Sara’s nipple. “All of you is so soft and sweet and perfect. But especially _here_ ,” Vetra murmured, replacing kitten-licks with intense suction and dedicated applications of teeth and mandibles. And the finger in Sara withdrew slowly, to a desperate chorus of _no_ s from Sara. Only to thrust back in fast and hard, driving a wavering cry from Sara’s throat. That cry turned into stuttered chanting of Vetra’s name as the other woman found her spot again and worked it till Sara was shaking and practically thrashing, bearing down and trying to trap Vetra inside her.

 

“V-Vetra—” Sara moaned softly as Vetra slowly, but steadily, began to fuck her with firm strokes that found her spot more often than they didn’t. The talon-tipped thumb teasing her clit went from tease to torture, applying more pressure as it slipped in Sara’s wetness.

 

“Mm . . . and _there_ ,” Vetra added smugly, pressing that spot inside Sara more intently, until Sara was pleading, and shaking harder than ever. Chuckling again, she nuzzled Sara’s breast. Then she nipped the side of it, all the way across the top and Sara’s chest, back to the left one, where she dropped a kiss on the neglected, but still pert nipple. “I could spend the rest of ever doing nothing but eating you out, and count it as a life well-lived.”

 

“Oh!” Sara’s body was all wound-up and in a tizzy, but it was a Zen rock-garden, compared to the whirling, elated maelstrom of emotion that was her heart. Because no matter how often Vetra said things like that—and she _did_ . . . _often_ —it always took Sara by surprise. Chipped away at hard-won resistance like a hammer and chisel to an already-weak brick wall.

 

“You . . . you say the sweetest things, Vetra Nyx,” she huffed out, barely able to hold onto the thought, let alone turn it into words.

 

“I only call it like I see it,” the other woman whispered over Sara’s racing heart, then rested her chin over the same spot.

 

“Yeah, well . . . let’s just say I _like_ the way you see it.” Sara managed to open her eyes again and meet Vetra’s. “I like it a _lot_.”

 

Vetra smiled and darted in for a kiss that stole Sara’s breath and played keep-away with it. It was at-turns soft and sweet, and devouring and wanton.

 

“You flutter around me like _butterflies_ , Sara Ryder,” Vetra breathed into the kiss, pulling her taloned finger out gently, then pushing back in with the second one, as well. Sara moaned, loud and long, at the sensation of being filled and stretched—not something she’d been particular about with previous lovers, but then . . . there’d _never_ been a lover like Vetra Nyx. Not for Sara—letting Vetra capture those moans with her mouth. “How is it that you’re so . . . _so_. . . .”

 

Sara arched up into Vetra’s heavier, harder body, locking her legs even tighter around the other woman’s narrow waist. The fingers sliding slickly in and out of her, aided by Sara’s own arousal, sped up a bit—intensified in force. The only sounds for long minutes were Sara’s pants, Vetra’s kisses landing randomly on Sara’s throat and collar and breasts, and the wet, delightfully obscene squelch of flesh in flesh.

 

Then, Vetra’s kisses began moving decisively south, pausing at Sara’s navel to dip her tongue in. Sara gasped and giggled and groaned, murmuring Vetra’s name. Her damp, shaking fingers traced the contours of Vetra’s head and mandibles.

 

“Please. . . .” she sighed as Vetra’s fingers pulled out of her. The other woman’s hands settled on her inner thighs, sliding down and in admiringly, even as she pushed Sara’s legs further apart.

 

“Are you having fun?” Vetra teased, her breath warm and humid just above Sara’s pubic hair: so close, yet not close _enough_. “You _look_ like you’re having fun. . . .”

 

“ _Bitch_. . . !”

 

Vetra chuckled, kissing Sara’s pubic hair and nuzzling it, inhaling deeply as she did so. “You smell so _good_ , Sara,” she hummed, kissing her way a bit lower to lick Sara’s clit with a slow, rasping tongue. This resulted in a stream of fervent, but incomprehensible gibberish from the pleasure-inundated Pathfinder. “And you _taste_ . . . wow. . . .” now, catching Sara’s sensitized clit between her teeth, Vetra continued to tease the bundle of nerve-endings with her tongue, until Sara was making breathless, high-pitched noises and drumming her left heel on Vetra’s hard shoulder-blade.

 

“Oh . . . oh, _God_!” she cried out, her body suddenly hurtling toward an orgasm like _doom_ : big and inevitable, shattering and final. At the precipice of that sweet, bright oblivion, she teetered, staring down into forever, awash in the sensual torture of Vetra’s tongue lapping delicately at her, then markedly less so, still humming in satisfaction as she tasted and appreciated every drop of Sara’s desire.

 

As Sara waited at the edge of her release for a final nudge, it came in the form of Vetra’s talons, tickling their way back inside her, delicate and precise as anything. Thick, firm fingers stretched her and scissored within her, those talons scraping her walls just on the pleasurable side of painful, before Vetra’s motions focused on Sara’s spot. Simultaneously, Vetra sucked Sara’s clit between her lips tonguing and nipping it and, with a last gasp that tried to be Vetra’s name, Sara came harder than she ever had. . . .

 

And after a few weeks of being on the receiving end of _Vetra’s_ talons, teeth, and tongue . . . that was certainly saying something.

 

#

 

“Pathfinder!”

 

Sara, lost in thought as she made her way from the salad-bar—her plate laden with greens, reds, yellows, and many other veggie-colors, as well lenpo tubers made the Angaran way, all spicy-saucy, and a datapad with the sort of busy-work Scott always foisted on her—barely noticed her title being called from the other side of the aft commissary. She’d chosen this one because it was the farthest-flung, least frequented one on-board the Nexus, and the one where she was least likely to be stared at and whispered about—the rumors flying around about the least-famous Pathfinder of the Ryder family and the Turian ex-smuggler/mercenary-cum-requisition officer were myriad, indeed—so she really didn’t expect to be outright _hailed_ by someone who knew her.

 

“Over here! Pathfinder!”

 

Attention finally snagged, Sara looked up and to the right, and spotted Sidera Nyx and her boyfriend at a secluded table, with lunch trays of their own. Sid was half-standing and waving Sara down, while the boyfriend, Yanos Lossarian, looked both uncomfortable and nervous, his mandibles twitching and drawing in in a Turian moue.

 

Sara—having already weathered Sid’s knowing, amused gaze a few hours prior, as she slunk out of the Nyx quarters in last night’s wrinkled, askew clothes—understood just how he felt.

 

With a soft sigh, she pasted a smile on her face and made her way over to the young Turians. Sid, slightly taller than Vetra, bore little resemblance to her older sister, but for those fascinating golden eyes. Her carapace was much paler, her markings red instead of Vetra’s indigo. Where Vetra was whipcord lean, Sid, though also as lean as most Turians, was a bit softer and rounder. Relatively speaking.

 

“How’s it goin’, Sid? Yanos?” Sara asked as she placed her tray next to Sid’s and sat next to the young woman. She nodded to Yanos, whose voice she’d only ever barely heard. But it was nothing personal, his persistent silence. The young Turian was quite close-mouthed around everyone except Sid, and Reyes Vidal, under whose wing he’d placed himself (to Reyes’s bemused amusement).

 

Yanos nodded back, his green eyes meeting Sara’s in acknowledgement before they darted back down to his tray. Next to Sara, Sid reached across the table and took a handful of teumilt from Yanos’s tray. He didn’t seem to mind, his mandibles twitching up in a small smile.

 

“So! Fancy meeting _you_ here!” Sid said when the teumilt was but a memory, her bright, curious eyes on Sara. Sara shoveled greens in her mouth before meeting that gaze.

 

“Mmmf?”

 

Sid’s brows shot up. “Uh-huh. Right. So. You and my sister,” she declared without further preamble. Sara winced and snorted, nearly sucking masticated veg down her windpipe. Which resulted in coughing and horking that made Yanos give her a wary, doubtful look. Sid, meanwhile, sighed. “Easy, Pathfinder,” she murmured, patting Sara’s back firmly, but absently. “I can’t help but note that since Scott and Reyes’s wedding, my sister’s been walking around with the stupidest, smuggest smirk on her face—all happy and goofy. Like she _never_ is.”

 

When Sara’s choking and throat-clearing was done, she blinked over at Sid, wiping her teary eyes, and opened her mouth to speak. When nothing came out, she shook her head. Sid gave Sara a lopsided smile and nudged her with a sharp elbow. “It’s okay, Pathfinder. _Sara_. I’m not upset, or anything, that you’re all up in my sister’s lady-business. All I’ve _ever_ wanted for Vetra is to be happy and not lonely. And she hasn’t been _either_ for a _really long_ time. So, I’m glad that this thing between you is . . . going well?”

 

When Sara nodded, as warily as Yanos had looked at her, Sid grinned. “Good! That’s great!” Humming happily, she stole more of Yanos’s teumilt, munching on it happily before going on. “And between me and thee? My sister’s needed to get laid in the _worst_ way for, like, _ever_.”

 

“Sid!” Sara squawked, dropping her fork and its payload of red and yellow goodness, to gape at her lover’s little sister. Sid was unashamed and unapologetic.

 

“Well, it’s true.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she gave Sara an intent look. “My sister’s stoic about it, but she’s been super-lonely for most of our lives.”

 

“She . . . she has you,” Sara managed to say.

 

“And she always will,” Sid agreed, but shrugged. “A sister, however, is no substitute for a lover.” She reached out and took Yanos’s long, large hand without looking away from Sara. The young Turian linked his fingers with hers, without looking up from his tray. “For whatever reason, whether it was because she was so busy working hard and taking care of me, or because she didn’t wanna wind up in a majorly toxic relationship like our parents had—or because she was just scared—Vetra’s _never_ . . . at least not that I know of . . . dated anyone.”

 

“I— _never_?” Sara’s eyes widened. Sid nodded once.

 

“She’s always been careful about her heart. After Dad . . . disappeared, she never let anyone else in. Not really. And then . . . _you_ came along, and now. . . .” Sid made a weird face and sighed. “I’m _really_ liking the change that’s come over her. She laughs more, smiles more, and talks about _you_ nonstop. She’s _happy_. And that makes _me_ happy.” A quick grin flashed out at Sara, before it turned into a narrow-eyed scowl. “That being said . . . Vetra’s my sister. I love her more than _anything_ , and she’s the only family I have. She’s literally the _best_ person I know and deserves _all_ the happy. Whether you guys find that together may be up for debate, and too soon to call. But know this: If you hurt my sister in any way? I’ll rip you to itty-bitty pieces with my bare hands then space the remains.”

 

Sara’s mouth dropped open again. “I—I—”

 

But Sid was already grinning once more. “I mean, for all _I_ know, you guys may just be friends-with-bennies. But I kinda don’t think that’s all it is. Not for _Vetra_ , anyway.”

 

Still floored at the revelation that confident, beautiful, dynamic Vetra Nyx may have never dated anyone before her, Sara could only sit, stunned as silent as Yanos. Thinking back to Scott and Reyes’s wedding reception, nine weeks ago—of the way she’d cavalierly mentioned her own fond memories of _her_ firsts, little knowing that she was about to become _Vetra’s_ _first_ . . . _everything_ —Sara finally swallowed and looked down at her tray. “I . . . not for me, either,” she admitted, in reply to the unasked question in Sid’s voice. “I mean . . . I don’t . . . I’m _not_ good at relationships. Not good at _people_ , period. Not like Scott is. But I really _like_ Vetra and . . . I’d rather cut off my right arm than hurt her or make her regret trusting me.” She looked up at Sid to see surprise writ large on the girl’s face. “Vetra’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met and . . . I’m trying _real hard_ not to mess things up, like I usually do.”

 

Sid blinked a few times, then nodded, slow and approving. “Well! _That’s_ pretty damned awesome to hear! Oooh!” Clapping her hands together in excitement, Sid suddenly hugged Sara’s shoulders, squeezing them tight. Yanos glanced up from his tray and smiled a little. At least until Sid started gushing about “double dates” and “couples’ vacations” together.

 

Sara—lost in thought again and _still_ numb with revelatory shock—barely heard anything the enthusiastic young woman said and barely tasted her leafy lunch.

 

By the time Sid dragged a still-chewing Yanos out of the commissary—with many a wave and farewell—Sara had absently agreed to a double dinner-date three nights hence, and a camping/spelunking trip to Draullir at some point in the near-future.

 

#

 

“And the _Quarian_ said: ‘I dunno. Looks like a pfluorg with a hangover, to me!’”

 

Sara’s eyebrows lifted, then furrowed. “Uh. . . .”

 

“‘ _Looks like a pfluorg with a hangover, to me!_ ’” Kallo repeated, waggling his own hairless brows and laughing at his own joke. Sara watched the pilot double-over, then finally manufactured a laugh, hearty and loud, even though the little of the long, meandering joke she’d paid attention to had been _impossible_ to follow, as Salarian jokes often were to non-Salarians.

 

“Ah . . . ah-ha-ha! Right! It’s funny because . . . Quarians! And pfluorgs!” she ventured, edging past the giggling pilot, who was wiping tears from his huge, dark eyes. “Wow! Good stuff, Kallo! In fact, I’m gonna go spread the funny before I, uh, forget any of the deets!”

 

“Of course!” Kallo exclaimed brightly. Then: “But don’t forget to credit me with the joke! It’s one of my best!”

 

Finger-gunning the still-giggling pilot, who waved as she backed away from him and around the last corner that led to the tram. She finally turned and dashed into the waiting transport, past one other rider, set her destination, and took out her datapad to do a bit of work while she rode.

 

Her mind settled into its usual go-to, of late—thoughts of Vetra and their . . . relationship—from before Kallo had intercepted her. She barely noticed the flow of data on the screen or the other passenger in the tram. At least until he spoke.

 

“So,” a familiar, gravelly voice said, startling her into dropping her datapad. Unperturbed, the latest figures for a possible golden-world on an outer edge of the Heleus Cluster continued to march up the small screen at Sara’s usual reading speed.

 

“You startled me,” she accused, one hand over her rabbiting heart as she bent to pick up the datapad, and its _endless_ info and numbers (while Scott was better at getting his hands dirty as a field Pathfinder, Sara worked better with numbers and equations, scans and raw data. Scott explored the planets, but Sara found and evaluated them, first: a thankfully unglamorous task). Nakmor Drack leaned against the tram’s console, arms crossed, as he gave Sara a measuring look.

 

“Not much to you humans, is there?” he asked. Sara’s brows quirked slowly and she put the datapad in her jacket pocket.

 

“Depends on what you’re lookin’ for, I suppose,” she replied laconically. She didn’t know Drack very well—and certainly not as well as _Scott_ knew the Krogan muscle—but she tentatively liked him. He reminded her of old Alliance vets she’d met throughout her life: competent, capable, tough to surprise or put-off. Plain-spoken and impossible not to respect.

 

Drack snorted, his prominent, ponderous brow lowering over his light-brown eyes as he scanned her, from boots to trousers, tank-top to jacket. “Me? _I’m_ not lookin’ for anything, kid. My pal, Vetra, is another story.”

 

Before Sara could even frown, Drack had pulled from _somewhere_ , like magic, a _huge_ Krogan-style hunting knife, with which he began to clean his claws.

 

All without ever taking his eyes from Sara, who gulped, _her_ eyes gone saucer-wide as she stared at the dully-glinting steel.

 

“Ya like?” Drack asked casually, finally deigning to eye his weapon as if just noticing he held it. “It served me well in the Rachni War. Seen a lotta alien blood, this knife. . . .”

 

“Is that so?” Sara managed to ask politely, though her voice sounded faint and frail to her own ears.

 

“Yup.” Drack’s smile was . . . pretty chilling. “Almost lost my favorite girl, here, during that nasty bit of business a while back. The Uprising.”

 

Sara nodded, eyes still on the knife and wondering what her chances were of actually getting out of this tram—which was still several minutes away from her destination—alive and with all her bits attached.

 

“Vetra was the one who did some digging and pulled some strings, and got me my girl back,” Drack mused, his gaze softening as he glanced at his knife. His smile turned fond and warm for a few moments . . . then changed right back as he looked at Sara again. “She didn’t have to. I didn’t even _ask_ her to. Just mentioned my girl and that I’d lost her . . . fast-forward three months later, one of Reyes Vidal’s couriers is delivering my girl to me while I’m drowning my sorrows in _Tartarus_. Wouldn’t tell me _who_ it was compliments of, but I could guess, easy enough. No one’s got reach and follow-through like Vetra Nyx,” he finished admiringly, almost gently. “And no one else cares enough.”

 

Sara started to speak—to say something heartfelt and warm about how generous and wonderful a woman Vetra was—when something suddenly blew past her cheek and through her hair.

 

With a _SPWONG!_ the hunting knife had buried itself in the firm padding of the wall just behind Sara, and two of her fine, sable-colored braids were drifting to the floor of the tram.

 

For long moments, Sara stared down at the braids, laying in two entwined coils next to her left foot, then she looked up at Drack, who was still smiling his chilling smile.

 

“We understand each other, right, kid?” he asked. Sara glanced down at the braids again, then back at the quivering knife, then to Drack.

 

“I . . . believe we do,” she said, swallowing. Drack nodded once, his smile lightening into something less scarifying.

 

“Well. That’s a relief. For _you_ , anyway.” He reached out and past Sara’s head and, with a yank and a grunt, retrieved his knife. A moment later, it was gone, back to whence it had come, and Drack belched before scratching his side. Sara absently touched her two truncated braids and stared at the small pile of hair on the floor.

 

The rest of the brief ride passed in a companionable—relatively—if slightly strained silence.

 

#

 

“Sara . . . oh . . . _Sara_. . . .”

 

Smirking, Sara pushed Vetra’s legs wider, surging forward to press kisses to the only place she _ever_ wanted to be anymore. Vetra’s hand on her head was gentle and restrained, doing nothing more than holding Sara in place while the Pathfinder licked at the musky-spicy space between Vetra’s long, quivering thighs.

 

Vetra’s moans were getting louder and longer, her soft, spare folds getting wetter, and not just from Sara’s tongue. Her hand on Sara’s head was clenching and releasing rhythmically, and her other hand was gripping the edge of her desk so hard, the faux-wood was beginning to creak audibly.

 

Humming happily as she tongued Vetra’s tiny, sensitive clit, Sara brought her own hand into play . . . namely her first two fingers, pushing them into Vetra slow and steady, the other woman’s gulping gasps music to her ears.

 

It was always so _easy_ to get lost in loving Vetra’s body . . . all tight-fluttery heat, mouth-watering scent, and addictive _taste_. . . .

 

This wasn’t the first time they’d had a nooner in Vetra’s office on the Nexus. Though it _was_ the first-time Sara _hadn’t_ , in her excitement, bonked her head on the underside of Vetra’s desk at least three times while doing so. And complain, though Sara did, about minor concussions and goose-eggs, that never stopped her from coming back for more at least once a day, as time and duties permitted.

 

(“We _could_ just go to my quarters, you know?” Vetra had huffed out breathlessly after the first such assignation, then moaned soft and sated, as Sara had straddled her thighs in the comfy, faux-leather executive chair and kissed Vetra, sharing the spicy taste that’d still lingered on her lips and tongue.

 

“We _could_ ,” Sara had agreed, snaking her hand between their bodies so she could slowly, languorously slide her fingers in and out of Vetra, gently working the other woman’s body to another orgasm just because she could. “But I _like_ sneaking around and getting you off while you get your work done.”

 

Vetra’s brows had lifted as she gazed at Sara. “Ryder . . . the only thing that got done in here in the past half-hour was _me_.”

 

Sara had grinned mischievously, lightly thumbing Vetra’s clit, before pulling her fingers free to taste them, and get them just a bit wetter. Vetra’s eyes had widened and she’d groaned. A few moments later, she’d been gasping as Sara pushed newly-wetted fingers back into her.

 

“Yeah,” the Pathfinder had hummed, stealing a kiss. And another. And another. “Fun times, huh?”)

 

Now, despite her usual sprinting when it came to nooners—Sara had once made Vetra come _four times_ in just under an hour, and was still plotting ways to topple her own record . . . _soon_ —Sara was in a marathon mood, today. She worked Vetra close to her climax twice, then brought her down a bit, only to edge her again, till the Turian was panting and swearing, and calling Sara every dirty Turian word in the book. And maybe a few she’d made up just for the occasion.

 

“I’m . . . gonna _kill_ you, Ryder,” Vetra finally gasped when, having been backed off her orgasm for the third time, she leaned back in her swanky office chair to glare blearily at Sara.

 

Smirking, Sara had licked Vetra’s sensitive, streamlined lips lightly, then her clit, then pushed her tongue into tight, wet Heaven, startling a cry from Vetra that was practically a squeak. The fingers anchored in Sara’s braids clenched tight enough to hurt in all the right ways.

 

“S-Sara . . . _please_ . . . I _need_ —” Vetra husked, then made a garbled gasp that sounded like. . . .

 

“Sc-Scott!”

 

For a moment, betrayal and rage swirled like a hurricane in Sara’s head and heart—she’d _never_ had a lover call her by someone else’s name while she was getting up-close and personal with their private playground, and _certainly_ never had one call her by her _brother’s_ name—then she heard the soft _whoosh-click_ as the door to Vetra’s office shut.

 

 _Oh_ , she thought, relieved. Then, _less_ relieved: _Oh_ , shit.

 

A moment later, Vetra was scooting closer, under the desk, her bony knees shoving Sara back against the thankfully low-hanging front of the desk. Stifling a yelp and a giggle, Sara drew in a breath that smelled and tasted like Vetra, then held it and waited to find out if they’d been caught.

 

“Heyya, Vetra,” Scott said serenely, from not far above Sara’s place of concealment. “How’s it goin’?”

 

“Oh, uh. It goes! Yes! Going! Places! Things to do!” Vetra said with borderline incoherence, shifting datapads on her desk, from the sound. Then clacking away at desk’s virtual keyboard. “Yes! Many things to—uh, um. Can I help you, Scott?”

 

“Actually,” Scott said, sitting in one of the two chairs in front of Vetra’s desk, with a soft sigh that made Sara groan silently. Scott wasn’t one for sitting—was always on the move. So, if _he_ was sitting, it was either something really serious, really long and involved, or both. “If you don’t mind, I just need a few minutes to talk with you about a . . . personal matter.”

 

“O-oh?” More shifting of datapads. To give her credit, Vetra only sounded _slightly_ like she was bare-ass naked from the waist-down, with her girlfriend crammed under her desk and between her legs. Only slightly like—

 

Sara lost the rest of the thought and Scott’s response as she realized that she’d used the g-word for the first time when referring to Vetra . . . even in the privacy of her own mind and heart.

 

 _She’s my girlfriend_ , Sara admitted to herself, smiling, as the impact of the word—and the shovel-speeches she’d received over the past couple of days—hit her suddenly, like a ton of bricks. _My beautiful, sexy, spiky girlfriend_. . . .

 

“. . . you and Sara?”

 

Tuning back in, Sara froze, one hand resting on Vetra’s calf, the other clenched in Vetra’s trousers, where they lay puddled around her ankles.

 

“Um,” Vetra said, a shiver working through her body as Sara stroked her calf. “I . . . are you . . . asking about my intentions?”

 

“Mm-hmm.” Scott still sounded quite serene, neither chastising nor threatening. “See, I know Sara seems like the poster-cookie for the Tough Cookie Brigade, but . . . she’s got a really gentle, easily-bruised heart that hasn’t always been treated as kindly as it deserved. I know the nature of your relationship isn’t exactly my business, but . . . it kinda _is_ , since she’s my sister and I love her. And you’re one of my dearest friends, and I love _you_.”

 

Sara could feel Vetra’s surprise just as clearly as her own. “I . . . really? _I’m_ . . . one of your dearest friends?”

 

“Of course,” Scott replied, a smile in his voice. “Doesn’t mean I won’t beat you like a red-headed stepchild if you _hurt_ Sara, but . . . the same goes for if Sara hurts _you_ , ya know? I’m not afraid to punch a girl. Right in the eye.”

 

Sara snorted quietly. That was true enough.

 

“I. . . .” Vetra still sounded poleaxed. “Oh! I . . . I would _never_ . . . Scott, I . . . I would _never_ _hurt_ Sara. Never. I’ve never felt for _anyone_ the way I feel about her,” she said slowly, shivering again when Sara nuzzled her knee and kissed it. “She’s . . . the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known.”

 

 _You’re getting_ so _lucky when Scott leaves_ , Sara mouthed on Vetra’s leg, kissing her way to Vetra’s inner thigh with flickers of tongue.

 

“Well, that’s . . . that’s good to hear, Vetra,” Scott said, his voice warm with approval. “Color me relieved and my mind at ease. I’m happy for the both of you.”

 

“Th-thank you, Pathfinder,” Vetra whispered, sounding genuinely touched. Scott chuckled and stood with a weary groan. Nothing tired him out more than the bureaucratic Nexus bullshit that Sara usually handled for him . . . until Scott’s own involvement was unavoidable. And he’d been grounded, at this point, since just after his and Reyes’s honeymoon.

 

“Anytime, Vetra. Oh, and Sara?”

 

Freezing in the act of nuzzling her way along Vetra’s right thigh, Sara could only gape for a few moments. Then, she sighed, shaking her head, her face gone up in flames. “Yeah, Scott?”

 

“Same shovel-speech, just insert _your_ name in the appropriate places, ‘kay?”

 

Sara muttered to herself, then said: “You _coulda_ just pretended you didn’t know I was here.”

 

“I coulda,” Scott agreed blithely, then let the smug silence draw out until Sara swore. He chuckled. “Anyway, be good to my friend, Sara Ryder, or you’ll regret it.”

 

“Understood . . . _Pathfinder_.” She hid her already hidden face against Vetra’s leg. A gentle hand settled on her head, scritching her scalp carefully with talons. Sara practically purred under the tender ministrations, despite her dismay and chagrin.

 

The door to Vetra’s office whooshed open. “That’s fine, then,” Scott said with his usual amused benevolence. Then added. “You two already know where babies come from, right?”

 

“ _Fuck off already_ , Scott!” Sara snapped, half-pissed-off, half-embarrassed, and kind of laughing.

 

The door to Vetra’s office _whoosh-click_ ed shut, once more, on Scott’s renewed chuckles and sniggers.

 

A few seconds later, Vetra was rolling her chair back to gaze down at Sara. She still looked a bit shocked, but was smiling, too. Sara returned the smile anxiously, crawling half-out from under the desk.

 

“I’ve, um . . . I’ve never felt this way for anyone, either,” she admitted quietly, but held Vetra’s gaze, which went wide with new surprise. Sara leaned on Vetra’s strong, bare thighs and bit her lips nervously. “I’ve been getting these impromptu speeches from our friends . . . mainly making sure I know how awesome _you_ are and how lucky _I_ am to be with you, and dire threats of what they’ll do to me if I hurt you—”

 

“Really?” Vetra shook her head. “I’ve gotten that same talk from Cora, Suvi, Liam, and Jaal!”

 

Sara frowned for a second, then laughed, shaking her head, too. “Wow. That’s . . . unexpected.”

 

“Not really. You’re pretty well-liked around here, Sara Ryder. _Loved_ , even,” Vetra sighed, cupping Sara’s face in her palm, her smile softening even more when Sara leaned into the tender touch and tender words.

 

“So’re you, Vetra Nyx. You’re . . . kinda _everything_ I ever wanted in a girlfriend—some things I always knew I wanted and a few I didn’t discover I needed till I had you—and I just wanna make my intentions toward you clear.” Sara closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her courage, before going on with eyes wide open. “The more time I spend with you, the harder it is—the more _painful it is_ —to imagine a life without you by my side. So, my intentions are to hold onto you for as long as you let me and maybe, someday, if you wanna have a ceremony . . . exchange some rings . . . sort out some ankle-biters to raise and spoil . . . that would be . . . _nice_.”

 

Vetra blinked and gaped for almost a minute, until Sara began to fidget and look away. Finally, Vetra pulled the smaller woman out from under the desk completely, to her feet, then into Vetra’s lap. She held the human Pathfinder close, making a gentle, soothing, churring rumble when Sara tucked her face in against Vetra’s throat, inhaling the dry, mace-anise scent of her skin. . . .

 

Sara already associated the scent with safety and affection, home and happiness.

 

“I really care about you,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around Vetra’s neck and holding on tight. Vetra returned the embrace just as tight. Tighter, even. “More than I meant to. More than I should. In a way that I can’t control. And that scares me. But you know what scares me more? _Losing you_.”

 

“Sara,” Vetra murmured in her hair, kissing her crown. “I _adore_ you. And the only thing that scares _me_ is losing _you_.”

 

Laughing a little, Sara sniffled, trying to fight the sudden tears that’d sprung to her closed eyes. “You don’t have to say it just because I did.”

 

“I know I don’t.”

 

Sara sniffled again. “Well. Okay.”

 

Vetra sighed again, happily, and for a few minutes, they sat like that until the mail-server chimed unobtrusively, notifying Vetra that she had a new message. But the other woman didn’t move, other than to hold Sara tighter.

 

“Wanna take this to my quarters?” she finally asked. Sara looked up into Vetra’s face with wide, somewhat dazed eyes.

 

“What about work? I mean . . . I think lunch is over, by now.”

 

“True.”

 

“And we both have things that need our attention—requisitioning and allocating for you, data-crunching for me. . . .” Sara winced as, right on cue, as if conjured by the word _data_ , SAM’s awareness (usually quietly in hibernation when Sara wasn’t working) blossomed in the forefront of her consciousness. For once, however, the AI didn’t immediately begin spewing numbers and information at her, merely observed with great interest the current goings-on.

 

“Yep. There’s always more work.” Vetra shrugged and leaned her forehead against Sara’s. “Now, ask me if I care.”

 

Sara smirked a little. “Will you settle for a peck on the cheek, instead?”

 

“I’ll settle for a lot more than _that_ ,” Vetra informed her, capturing her mouth in a long, thorough kiss. By the time they surfaced from it, they were prone on the floor behind the desk, Sara’s tank and bra pushed up, her trousers and panties shoved down.

 

“Vetra!” Sara gasped as the other woman licked her nipple before latching onto it, while her talons teased Sara’s labia briefly, before pushing into Sara’s slick, fluttering softness. As Sara relaxed around and underneath her, Vetra sped up and intensified her thrusts, interspersing licks and suckles with murmured praise.

 

It wasn’t long before, with a series of choked-off cries, Sara began to shake and convulse and come, just from the act of penetration and indirect clitoral stimulation.

 

It was a _first_. One that left her limp and panting, and unable to so much as turn her heavy head. But Vetra didn’t leave her to fret, leaning over Sara to kiss her again and again and again.

 

And when Sara was revived enough to smile into and _return_ those kisses—to feel the need for some serious reciprocation—she reversed their positions with a quick, well-executed take-down move, that left a pleased Vetra smiling up at her with relaxed mandibles and shining eyes. Despite her desire to take Vetra apart with fingers and lips, teeth and tongue, Sara could only, for long moments, stare and stare.

 

Finally, Vetra’s smile widened, her mandibles shivering with silent laughter.

 

“What’re you starin’ at, Pathfinder?” she teased, then hummed-purred when Sara leaned down to kiss her gently, tenderly, and lingered at it.

 

“Just starin’ at my girl, is all,” she murmured when she trusted her voice not to quake. Vetra’s brows shot up.

 

“Your girl, huh?”

 

“Well.” Sara blushed, but smiled. “You saying you’re _not_? If so, that’s _very_ upsetting to me. . . .”

 

Vetra chuckled, reaching up to brush her fingertip along Sara’s lower lip, her eyes fond. “You talk too much, Ryder. Fortunately,” Vetra grinned and laid back, closing her eyes, “I can think of some _other_ uses for that mouth of yours.”

 

 _Y’know, so can I_ , Sara didn’t waste time replying, instead kissing her way down the trail of unfastened shirt left by her quick, nimble fingers. Vetra was making soft sounds of neediness and desperation by the time Sara was in a position to pick up where she’d left off when Scott had so rudely interrupted them.

 

The simulated daylight of the Nexus was distinctly golden and westering by the time the two women, disheveled, flushed (well, one of them, not that it showed up on her complexion . . . much), and holding hands, locked up Vetra’s office and made their way to the nearby tram. Once aboard, smoldering gazes and promising smiles had to suffice in lieu of touches and talk, as the small transport was rather crowded with the pre-rush-hour rush.

 

Once they debarked, they meandered to Vetra’s quarters, with many stops to canoodle in shadowy recesses and small, deserted corridors. Few, if any words, passed between them. And fewer, still, than that, were actually necessary.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Written for these [kiss prompts](https://beetle-ships-it-all.tumblr.com/post/159530911030/fictional-kiss-prompts): 
> 
> 4\. throwing their arms around the other person, holding them close while they kiss  
> 8\. being unable to open their eyes for a few moments afterward  
> 14\. starting with a kiss meant to be gentle, ending up in passion
> 
> Follow me on [The Tumbles](http://beetle-ships-it-all.tumblr.com)!


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